The Light's Gone Out
by Hitokiri Hobbit
Summary: Musicalverse. Wicked ends when The Wizard of Oz does. Yet lives do not end with their "stories"--so what becomes of them? Fiyero is changed. Elphaba is broken and has abandoned Oz. Glinda is left alone to care for a torn land. Past done, unknown waits
1. Chapter 1

**AN: This sentiment of this story is built on my feeling of the characters' relationships, without any alteration to the existing canon. Spoiler alert--if you don't know how the show ends, in specific detail, this might not be the story to dabble with. I appreciate all readership and hope as ever that it's not a disappointment.**

32, the Month of the Salamander, 22 Post Ozma

Fiyero grows worse. I can't bring him around. Some days he will not speak. Though he never sleeps, he will lie in bed like a sulking child, or as one waiting for death. Even now he never blames me.

I fear we are fading. Here, in this nothingness, we are not what we should be.

I think often of Glinda.

OZ

Glinda Upland squinted in the glow of an enchanted crystal. The words danced before her vision, and she had to rub her eyes as exhaustion tugged at them. She slept too little, she knew, spending late ours studying the text of the Grimmerie in hopeful determination to make sense of it. She feared to cast a spell in any uncertainty, having seen herself how powerful the effects of the book could be—and their irreversibility. Yet she had to try, however difficult, for Oz and Elphaba depended upon her. Still, as her fingers travelled over the worn leather of the binding, she could feel the tingle of Elphaba's skin as the resigned woman handed the tome over to Glinda's keeping. Handed over the welfare of Oz.

Glinda had foreseen the difficulty of her task, her future and legacy, but not how it would wear upon her soul. The death of Elphaba was not a year gone, and she found the weight of the loss only deepening as time passed onward. Elphaba knew of the greater good—she had lived and breathed and bled it. Glinda had no such inherent knowledge or passion in her. She had learned it—was learning it still—and she felt lost with no guide and no steadying, comforting hand. With a sigh, she closed the book and prepared to sleep a few restless hours before rising to her duties with the impending morn.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: I want to apologize for the brevity of these early chapters. I swear it won't be like this forever, but short bursts was the only way I could find to properly introduce it. Also, I really want to thank the people who have reviewed the first chapter--even with so little to go on.^_^ It's all very encouraging.**

7, the Month of the Dragon, 22 Post Ozma

We are so far here—from Oz, from Glinda, from who we once were. We are far from anything we imagined. No one intends such a distance.

I fear that we've lost everything in the simple pursuit of life. We cannot go back, but there is no forward step from where we now stand. Something must be done.

Fiyero will never again be the Fiyero he was. He is not the man who loved the beauty in himself. I am not the girl he loved for the fire of passion—out here, there is no passion. I've abandoned it for the flimsy hope of freedom. We left for safety, and safety is all we have found here. We did not find _life_.

We are safe. And we are lost.

OZ

"Fellow Ozians, I ask your patience and your perseverance." Glinda spoke to the mob as a friend appeals to another. And why not? Had they not become her only connection to the world? Orphaned charges left to her by Elphaba, to guide as the Wizard had not. She, a lovely icon they would follow like puppies—goodness or no. So she strived to be not only what they wanted, but what Elphaba would have expected.

"I ask for your trust, even without understanding. We all must be asked this much—parents ask it of children, doctors ask it of patients, professors ask it of students. I am ashamed to admit that not all those who hold such trusted positions prove themselves worthy—but yet I must ask you to trust me. For goodness' sake.

"We have healed from the frightening times of witches—together we have healed. And together we must move forward. We must take up the world that was left to us by the Wizard and come together—friends, humans, Animals, survivors. We have lived through terrors and survived.

"The light of dawn breaks slowly. There will always be clouds to cover the sun. But remember that the rain waters the land, friends, and we drink and eat the fruits of past storms. Trust in me, my fellows—let us trust in ourselves, as one Oz."

Chistery huddled out of sight, fidgeting as a roar went up from the crowds. He watched Glinda and for a moment thought to reach for her hand. But she could not be touched. In front of the masses, she stood alone. In the dark of night, away from other eyes, she cried alone. Yet she stood with a smile, and she fought as Elphaba always had—alone. And she fought as Elphaba never had—_entirely_ alone.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: Despite continued brevity, there's a bit more forward motion after this chapter. Bear with me.^_^;;**

13, the Month of the Dragon, 22 Post Ozma

Oh Oz, what have we done?

Glinda, forgive me.

OZ

The vast emptiness of Kiamo Ko echoed Glinda's footsteps. She shivered from cold and damp and drew her shawl about herself. Her clothing was plain, so as to attract no attention—vastly different from the dazzling garb she had worn in public, appearing smiling at the celebration. All of Oz had worn itself to a stupor with festivities. Glinda observed their zeal with reserve and supported the people, as she must. Then, when the music died down and the drinks had been drained, she had taken herself away, returned to the place of the melting. She returned and knelt as she had a year before, tears shed shamelessly for the pain that had failed to fade.

_Elphie! _Glinda sobbed into her hands. She heard the soft patter of Chistery's steps on the stone, but she did not turn. Nor did he approach to comfort her. He said nothing and did not touch her, but he too shuddered with grief.

In a trembling moment, Glinda thought she felt the presence of her friend, heard the echo of her voice in their last moments. Of that moment she had nothing left but the Grimmerie. The bottle had been taken by the Wizard, and the hat had been left and since disappeared—perhaps taken by curious pranksters or thieves and paraded for cheap show. She had no way to know these things. But the Grimmerie remained, given and kept and treasured. Not understood but necessary, and she did not know what to do with it—her fate became no clearer in its tantalizing text. Neither did her past, Elphaba's wishes or the choices she'd made, the moments lost and bridges crossed and burned to cinder.

Glinda breathed and steadied herself, gazing into the high stone ceiling, thinking of the cries that had reverberated from every surface. The fortifications of the castle had not protected the haven from the mob's approach. Magic and clairvoyance had not protected Elphaba from Dorothy's cast.

That bucket, Glinda still did not understand. Such a silly rumor—one Fiyero had scoffed at. Yet she'd heard her friend's screams and seen the shadows of the fight, tucked away to save herself as Elphaba had wished. And then her Elphie was gone.

Glinda wept quietly, and she rose. Tears and regrets would not reanimate the past. She would mourn—but she would face the future as well. Such was her legacy, her curse. For her cowardice and vanity, for her success and accomplishments, she was punished with the power for good Elphaba for which had striven in every noble manner. Glinda had earned her mantle. She must bear the ills of Oz and change them for the good. Alone.

Chistery moved to Glinda's side when her gaze turned to him. "We should go," she said, voice steady, and he took her hand.

Ghosts stirred in Kiomo Ko and followed them out.


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: Forward motion. I'm profoundly sorry for the length, but I wanted this entry to stand alone. **

**More to follow very soon, I promise.**

20, the Month of the Dragon, 22 Post Ozma.

It is time to go. To where, I cannot yet fathom. Back—but back to what? Something has gone wrong—perhaps all was wrong. Still I might attempt to right it. What can be righted. Oz, if I only knew what waits for me. I must go back. For life or death, goodness or ill, for Oz, for Glinda. Perhaps only to die on home soil. I must return and see what is left of my life.

Goodbye.


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: No Glinda this chapter.T_T But she'll be back next post.**

The wind rippled as in a sail, yet it did not guide, it embraced. And it carried the land's smell. The witch breathed it as a perfume and a narcotic. The smells she had lost in her absence, in her numbness, they washed over her in tides. The jackal moon provided a queer yellow-blue glow by which to see the passing countryside. Any superstitious traveler who chanced to look up might believe he'd seen a spirit winging against the black. She soared lower, to hug the landscape and hope that she went unnoticed.

The witch alighted in a grove of willows, concealed within their curtains of green. She felt a familiar unease that in an odd sense served to comfort. The fear of discovery—her old companion. Elphaba smirked.

She had more to fear, though, than she had before. The risk of capture by the Wizard was one thing. But now all of Oz believed her to be dead. The people would fall into panic were she discovered. She would not be responsible for the chaos of mass hysteria, if she could avoid such a thing. At least no one would be searching for her any longer.

Oz had changed little to the eye in a year—its inner workings would take time to reveal. Last she'd known, Dorothy Gale had returned to the Wizard to claim her promised reward, and the Fiyero had returned to her at Kiamo Ko. No news of Glinda. They had left no word with her, at Fiyero's insistence. Elphaba wondered if the blonde had managed. She felt a pang of guilt and promptly brushed it away. She would learn soon enough what had become of her friend and of the world, after she'd left it.

She gazed through the leaves at the dark pitch of sky and smiled. The jackal moon squinted back, as though trying to ascertain her existence. She breathed the scent of Oz and slumbered.

OZ

1, the Month of the Merrow, 22 Post Ozma

It rains. I recall the days at Shiz. The world is all it once was, and yet it is not.


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: Sorry for the delay--yesterday saw me in the ER._**

**On a more depressing note, I'm about to catch up with what I have written so far. Not to worry, I'm still writing, but that might mean more delays. For that I apologize in advance. However, given the story's progression, you might also start to see more length to chapters.^_^ (Finally!) I will try to post again very soon. Thanks a hell of a lot to my reviewers!**

3, the Month of the Merrow, 22 Post Ozma

I never expected for Life to hold for me—but neither did I expect ever to return. We are an estranged couple, my Oz and I—although I suppose we were never very good friends in the first place.

I missed you.

OZ

"Lady Glinda?"

She rose and smoothed her dress, her shoulders back, posture straight. "Yes, what is it?"

The Gale Force guard nodded to her reservedly. He stood in the open doorframe but never ventured beyond its threshold. She had taken to leaving her office door open during the day, as she possessed an occasional tendency not to hear knocks. "Your audience, my lady—you were to be alerted."

"Yes, of course." Glinda breathed softly, speaking in a low, controlled voice. "I will be there presently."

With a half bow, the guard disappeared from the doorway. Glinda looked down to the work at her desk and sighed. She then looked up and out of the broad window above it. The room was high enough in the palace that its view cleared the expanse and walls of the Emerald City, extending to the countryside beyond. To the western sky, which Glinda still watched. She did not hope, but she remembered.

Glinda turned. A mirror stood against the opposing wall, and she studied her appearance. Care marked her features but ultimately only lent to her beauty, gracing her with an air of intangibility that had only existed superficially before— But depth and void lay behind her eyes, that viewers could only guess at in mystery, and they adored her the more for it. Her goodness could not be grasped by common folk.

The bare surface alone could betray so very little, and yet what else did Oz know?

With a sharp breath to prepare herself, she turned back to the window. She caught a glimpse of a figure against the sky, larger than most birds and flapping too awkwardly. Glinda smiled as Chistery wobbled on the wind, perhaps catching sight of her and offering a sort of wave, though his distance prevented her from being certain. He turned and grew smaller against the horizon, winging his way to Oz knew where. He would return when he felt satisfied.

Glinda made her way down the wide corridor regally, with purpose. Her _life_ had become a purpose—so much so that she hardly lived it. What was to live? Glinda almost laughed aloud. She mentally chastised herself for the lapse—lack of sleep was taking its toll on her higher functions.

Glinda the Good was announced as she entered the room, and she detected the hush. Her life was but a silence, the world waiting for only her voice. She did not wish to fill it. Let them wait suspended in their silence.

_Slipping._

Smiling and flashing her pearly teeth, Glinda opened with a formal greeting.


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: Ok, I'm very, very sorry if I alarmed anyone with that ER comment last time. Rest assured, if it had been a weekday, I probably would have been in a regular doctor's office. So yeah, sorry about that. Nothing life-threatening.**

**Onward with the story.^_^;**

Glinda woke in a sweat. She looked about but could discern nothing in the dark, breathing to steady her nerves. After a moment she noticed a tugging at her sheets and looked down to see a silhouette of Chistery's form, apparently alerting her with some urgency. Grabbing the crystal she kept on a nightstand well within reach, Glinda breathed a spell to illuminate it.

The monkey's eyes glowed green in the sudden flare of light.

"Chistery, what is it?"

He cocked his head, as if contemplating her for a moment, suddenly still. Glinda knew she must have looked a wreck. What good did sleep even do her when it was so fitful?

"Chistery," Glinda spoke with more insistence, though gently, "what's the matter?"

With some vigor of movement, the monkey produced several long, dark dun straws.

Glinda squinted in the glowing light. She felt her certainty clouded by dumb disbelief, and for a moment she did not respond even in emotion.

Her reaction came all at once. Glinda nearly sprang from the bed, startling Chistery back a hop. "Where did you get it?" she blurted, practically cradling the straws in both hands. "We've looked everywhere."

Chistery tugged at her nightdress, and Glinda moved quickly to follow him. She dressed rapidly, rather carelessly. Chistery leapt into the window, waiting. He could not carry her far, but they would leave the palace by air and begin from outside the wall. Her bubble was too conspicuous.

Perhaps, if all went as Glinda hoped, she might yet fly back alongside her winged friend.

OZ

Returned once more to herself, Elphaba dreamed.


	8. Chapter 8

**AN: All kinds of sorry._ This was supposed to be up Wednesday, then I got busy, then I couldn't log in all of yesterday--anyone else have that problem? So yeah... I apologize for the wait. It was so not cool of me.**

**Again with the brevity--this one is short, and the next one will probably be short. After that, there will start to be some serious dialogue, and you'll start to see a bit more in the way of length. (That happens with me and dialogue.) Sorry about all that too...**

**So without further ado:**

Elphaba cradled her broom against her shoulder as she slept. It was a half-sleep, to which she had become accustomed during her years on the run. Images danced between herself and the world, and she could touch them. Lands she had seen, lands she had not, the people from before and beyond, though she knew none of them. She knew nothing. Yet she witnessed.

The witch drew in a sharp breath. She heard footsteps—still at a loss for a moment whether to run out of the dream or into it. Then from a short distance drifted a call, quite resembling a wail in pitch, and Elphaba drew herself into reality, rising. "Chistery?"

The padding steps grew closer; there was an offbeat to them.

A softer voice, like an echo: "Chistery, how far is it?"

Elphaba froze even to her breath. Two figures became visible in the dark. Had the witch not known the voice, she would have recognized her form, even in silhouette and without the adornment of one of her grand wardrobes.

_No_—the witch drew back a step. She was not prepared.

Chistery became visible in the moonlight, and he looked up at her, innocently, earnestly.

Glinda's face glowed, pale white against the dark. And she stared.

Caught, unready, off her guard, Elphaba forced herself not to turn away, her heart thundering rapidly behind her ribs. She had not yet prepared herself. A torrent of memories and hopes and emotions drowned her. These were to come later—_she was not yet prepared_.

Neither woman spoke. As Elphaba tried to force words from her mouth—an explanation, a greeting, a breath—Glinda only stared at her blankly, no indication of gladness or anger or hurt—or shock. She betrayed nothing. Still as a porcelain rendering of a serene woman.

Chistery, who had watched one then the other, trotted up and took Elphaba's hand.

The green witch briefly shifted her gaze at the contact—and Glinda fainted.


	9. Chapter 9

**AN: Sorry for the wait. I had surgery on Wednesday--it went well, and I'm recovering well and all. It was laproscopic, so it wasn't too invasive. But all that hospital stuff has gotten resolved now and all--or very nearly so.**

**So this chapter is short again, but I'm working on the next one, and it's already longer. (I know, finally, right.) There's going to be a good bit of dialogue, so look forward to it. I'll get through it as soon as possible, but as of yet it's not done, so be patient with me.**

How Chistery had found her the first time, Elphaba did not know. Their reunion was happy and simple.

She had not expected him to bring Glinda. She wondered, had he been with her all the time the witch had been gone?

She had known keenly well that things could not be so simple with Glinda. Elphaba had deceived her friend and faked her own death. One did not return from the dead with ease. If all of Oz was superstitious enough to believe in witches' ghosts, Glinda was not. Glinda Upland—Glinda the Good—hardly believed in witches, after all they'd been through; magic was not their _gift_, but their albatross.

Elphaba cradled the blonde, who breathed unevenly and hissed words that could not be made out. Chistery sat calmly aside, a silent sentinel.

"Great Oz, Chistery,"—Elphaba brushed gold locks from Glinda's face as the woman thrashed and again lay still—"is there nothing we can do?" Chistery shrugged and scratched his ears.

Elphaba's shoulders drooped. "You still don't speak?"

The monkey nodded and squeaked the word: "Speak." The witch started and felt as her jaw dropped.

"When did you—"

Chistery reached toward the unconscious blonde but only gripped the fabric of her dress. "Miss Glinda."

As if called, Glinda opened her eyes. They were unfocused, but they looked at Elphaba and past her. The green witch attempted to speak but found no words as the blonde screamed—which melted into a hysterical fit of laughter. "I've died," she cried between outbursts. "I'm in the Time Dragon's Den."

Elphaba looked helplessly at Chistery as Glinda continued to laugh and then slipped once more into unconsciousness.

The witch swore under her breath. The monkey repeated the expletive.

"Look at her." Elphaba once again brushed unruly curls away from the sheen of sweat on her friend's forehead. "Chistery, what's happened? Does she even sleep? Oz, but she's gotten thin." She shook the blonde by the shoulders, but Glinda would not wake.

The monkey shook his head and nodded in alternation. Elphaba sighed

The blonde stirred and muttered something inaudible. The green woman shook her friend gently, hopefully. "Glinda?"

Glinda was not awake. She wept in her sleep and mumbled unintelligibly. Elphaba cradled and rocked her and whispered comforting phrases. She sang in attempt to soothe her. Chistery stood uncharacteristically still, watching them, his face masked by the angle of shadows.

Glinda could not be woken. The monkey's howl pierced the night quiet as Elphaba began to sob.

**Note: So albatross, in this context, evolved from a literary reference--normally I wouldn't use a word that evolved that way in a world like Oz, because that root would not exist in their culture. But since Maguire has no qualms doing that sort of thing in his own work, I decided to use it anyway. Just mentioning that in case someone out there is as nitpicky as I would be.**


	10. Chapter 10

**AN: Ok, so this post is more than twice as long as any previous. Huzzah. Also, good news--I finally figured out where the hell I'm going with all this. Well, kind of... It's a process.**

**Well, now that there's some character interaction--I hope you enjoy it.^_^ (crazybeagle, if you're still reading, there's finally some answers about Fiyero in this one.)**

**Thanks again, a hell of a lot, to all my reviewers. I like to know what you all have to say.**

6, the Month of the Merrow, 22 Post Ozma

Within a week, I've found little to disappoint me, until this.

Oz is healing. The memory remains, but the scars fade. The fear fades. Even the prejudices, whose stamp is still apparent, are lessening now that they are no longer encouraged.

When I learned that Glinda has orchestrated all the things I've seen—I'd never experienced a purer feeling. My love for her then—I suppose I was proud.

But seeing her, and the mark it's made, even physically—

OZ

When Glinda awoke, she blinked into gray light. Dawn—she had been gone from the palace for so long. Her absence would be noted.

Stirring and stretching, she looked about. Elphaba sat next to a fire. By some charm, the flames gave rise to no smoke. Clever, Glinda though to herself—no doubt useful, for one who did not wish to be found.

Blinking again, Glinda assessed a second time what her eyes saw. "Sweet Oz…"

Elphaba rose abruptly at the sound of the blonde's voice. Looking at Glinda's eyes, she breathed. "I was afraid that—"

"I dreamed of this. Or am I dreaming still?" Glinda looked about again. Chistery was nowhere in sight—he had been with her. She looked at Elphaba, who regarded her carefully. "Am I dead?"

"No." Elphaba spoke uncertainly, but she took a step forward. "You're alive."

"But you're not. Elphie? What's happened to us?" Glinda felt her limbs and torso frantically, perhaps to ascertain her physical form. She began breathing in abbreviated gasps.

"Glinda—no, calm down." Elphaba was at her side, holding her, though at arm's distance. She spoke steadily. "Look at me. I'm here. We're both alive."

Glinda's eyes rolled back in her head, and for a moment Elphaba feared she'd again passed out. But she regained focus and stood more swiftly than the green witch would have advised, given her state. The crack of her palm came as a shock.

"_How could you leave me_?" In their time as roommates, Elphaba had weathered many of _Galinda_'s tantrums. But never had she heard the blonde scream _so_. Fear and sorrow acting as a sort of balm for the sting, she waited, still as though cut from copper.

Glinda shook the bite from her hand, even as it itched to strike a second time. She trembled with fury, with despair. "All this time…" Releasing a sob, she felt suddenly lightheaded. "You left me alone here. You _lied_ to me."

"No," Elphaba breathed. She could not lift her eyes to meet Glinda's. "I never could lie to you. I arranged it so I never had to."

"You _deceived _me. You let me believe you were dead!"

Elphaba could not deny the accusations. She remained silent—and guilty.

"Elphie, do you know how I grieved for you?"

"I grieved as well," the witch said softly.

"You didn't _tell me_," Glinda whispered. She opened her mouth, but breath did not come with better ease.

"I couldn't—I _wanted_ to," Elphaba insisted. "Fiyero said—"

"_Fiyero_?"

Elphaba burned a dark shade of green from shame. Around them, Glinda noticed the light had dimmed. She had not slept until dawn—but till dusk.

A loud flap of wings alerted the women to Chistery's return. He carried in his arms a bundle of vegetables, probably pillaged from an honest-working Munchkinlander's field.

"You should eat," Elphaba said quietly, as Chistery shook the cold wind from his limbs.

"I will _not_ unless you explain yourself."

"Agreed." The witch rose. She nodded to Chistery, who ran past her toward the fire. "Put some water on to boil."

Glinda tensed. "Is that safe?"

Elphaba blinked at her. "If you don't burn yourself."

"But the water…"

After a moment's pause, realization dawned in the witch's features. "Did not kill me."

Glinda shook her head. "You only let me believe it did. It was absurd!" The blonde paced, grinding her teeth in aggravation—at Elphaba, at herself. Perhaps even at Chistery. And Fiyero… "Fiyero?"

Elphaba hesistated and sighed. "He is not with me."

"_With_ you? Then he _is_ alive?"

"Yes." The witch turned her face away. "In a manner of speaking."

"What do you mean? Is he all right?"

Twisting her fingers together, Elphaba turned away from Glinda. She opened her mouth several times as though to speak but closed it again without a sound. "Do you remember the Scarecrow who accompanied Dorothy?" she asked finally.

"Of course," Glinda replied dismissively. Elphaba turned to face her, and brown eyes stared unblinkingly, compelling her. The blonde stared back, uncomprehending, until her friend's meaning all at once became clear. "It's not possible," Glinda breathed. "Sweet Oz, I met them when the Wizard sent them off—to kill you. I looked into his eyes, and I never… Elphie, how?"

Elphaba sighed, putting a hand to her forehead. "I did it. It was the Grimmerie." She laughed bitterly, looking away, at the ground, at the sky, at the fire. "He never blamed me. At least never aloud. Perhaps he held to a notion that the trade was worth the cost. His life for his—self. Oz, but you should have seen him. He _was_ himself when he came to me at Kiomo Ko. But then he… faded. Over time, he could not hold on."

"Elphie, you're not making sense." Glinda noted the growl in her voice. She had not yet recovered from the shock—or the resentment. Elphaba's troubles had not been small, she could see—she knew—but she could not yet comprehend compassion.

The green witch took a breath. "It was his idea, you know. All of it."

Glinda suddenly understood. Her fingers curled and uncurled. "The water bucket."

Elphaba nodded. "I didn't know until his note that he had survived—what the spell had done to him." A momentary silence fell between them. "Everything was in that note. And he came for me."

"So, you and he…" Glinda cleared her throat awkwardly. "You two—"

Elphaba laughed bitterly. "If you could call it that. He began to deteriorate almost immediately. His mind, that is."

"What happened?" the blonde asked quietly.

"We left Oz."

"_Left_—?"

"The spell changed him, Glinda. I mean physically, yes, and at first he was himself—if more subdued. But in time, he could not feel, could not _be_ as he once had. He was changed. It was a new existence for him. I felt that I… With me, he could never grow… into someone new." She pressed a hand to her brow. "He could not be himself, not again."

Glinda felt tears press at the corners of her eyes and covered her face.

"I'm sorry," Elphaba said softly. "I never meant any of it."

"Elphie…" The blonde wept through her fingers. "You were _dead_."

Elphaba moved quickly to her. She took Glinda's hands in her own, clasping them to her forehead. "I was desperate. I was wrong. Forgive me." Glinda felt tears against her wrists. They melted her—into her, through skin, to her soul.

Leaning, she kissed green fingers intertwined between her own.


	11. Chapter 11

**AN: This one is up a little quick--I think I made my brain bleed with the editing process. So enjoy.^_^ Don't get too spoiled with the promptness please. The next one is going to take me a bit of time--in the middle of it now. Have patience, and I'll deliver the moment I have something up to par. **

**Hey, I actually got three reviews for the last chapter--I think that's a record. Thanks to those responsible.**

"Elphie, how did you do it?"

The Jackal Moon had begun to blink, but it leered at them in an odd way, as if to learn their secrets and keep them at ransom. Glinda held enough secrets to fill the moon. And Elphaba…

"Do what?" They lay side by side in a bed of leaves. Glinda leaned her head so that it rested against Elphaba's shoulder.

"_Leave_."

"Oz?" The blonde nodded. Elphaba grinned and waved her fingers. "Well, by sky."

Glinda sat up suddenly. Scraps of brush clung to her golden curls. The witch nearly laughed. She wondered if Glinda Upland had ever lain on bare ground before. But the blonde did not notice her amusement. "The broom—Chistery and I had searched for it, everywhere. We thought it was lost—or taken." She paused. "It's why I came here tonight."

Elphaba shifted, looking up at her friend. "And you found—"

Glinda sighed and laughed. Her smile coaxed a like gesture to Elphaba's lips. "I found my life had not yet ended."

"Glinda—"

"What was it like?"

The witch drew a slow breath. "It was beautiful, in its own way. Parts of it. There are oceans."

"_Oceans_?"

Elphaba laughed. "We were awed as well. We lived next to one for a while, but Fiyero tended to mold."

"What else did you see? Were there mermaids or sea dragons?"

"No—altogether, there's a great deal less magic than here. Even my own spells were somewhat diminished."

Glinda gazed at the sky, contemplative. "We should go there."

"What?"

The blonde turned to her friend, grasping one of her hands. "Elphie, take me, please. I want to go—I want to see it all, what you've seen."

The green woman sat up, frowning. "Glinda, I've only just come back. We belong here."

Glinda turned her face away. Elphaba could not but note the pain in it. "What is there for us here?"

Elphaba leaned forward, trying to catch her friend's gaze. Glinda avoided her eyes. "Glinda, _life_—everything. This is our home. We _are_ this place."

"It's not who I am!" The force of her words took the witch aback. When Glinda at last looked up, tears glistened brightly against her eyes. "They all love me, _adore_ me, but who am I? I am nothing, Elphaba. Without you, I became more than I ever imagined—alone. But I was nothing."

Slowly, as if skittish of startling the petite blonde, Elphaba took a pale hand between both of her own. "Glinda, listen to me. When I left here… I was not complete. You're not alone. There's good we can do here—even still, I believe there is." Glinda looked away, her breath quickening. "But this time we do it together."

Sighing, Glinda turned her hand to clasp Elphaba's. "Even death could not slow you down."

The witch smirked. "No rest for the wicked."

"Don't say that," the blonde snapped, perhaps too vehemently. "That infernal word—I've had to listen to it for too many years." She turned her head away as she blinked back salt and sting. "And I've indulged it."

"You promised," Elphaba said quietly.

"Yes, I used to think it was the cruelest thing you ever did to me. I didn't know about your elaborate performance headlining Dorothy Gale."

"Glinda—"

"You're a wonderful performer." Glinda raised her chin, in the charming way she had of issuing an air of influence—Elphaba had known her to employ such tricks all the time they'd been friends, and before. "It was so moving," she continued, "I cried."

The green woman turned her face sharply, chastised. "Glinda, that's not fair."

"Isn't it? Why didn't you stay, Elphie?"

The witch ground her teeth, determined not to show tears. "They were trying to kill me—"

"They were always trying to kill you," the blonde interrupted. "Why did you go?"

Elphaba sighed, failing in her determination. "I couldn't— After Fiyero,"—her voice wavered—"and before him Dr. Dillamond and Nessarose and Boq…"

Glinda's brow furrowed. "What happened to Boq?"

Elphaba looked up, eyes widening. "You didn't know? Nessa, she tried to… And then I…"

"Elphie,"—Glinda touched her friend's hand—"you're not making sense again, dearest."

The witch drew a breath. "Another spell. Two, actually. I did what I could to save him." She paused. "He became the Tin Woodsman."

Glinda gawped for a moment and buried her face in her hands. "All of my college friends!"

"Boq was your friend?" When the blonde looked up at her in indignation, Elphaba's breath hitched. "I mean, you couldn't even remember his name."

"He was a dear! So sweet… and a bit annoying. But I was different back then, all right? I never wished any harm on him."

"I suppose he didn't cope so well either… Far worse than Fiyero, even."

"Fiyero…" The name tasted strange to Glinda. He had been so much to her. And then, to Elphaba—he had nearly torn them apart. In so many ways, tragedy had mended what wayward love had rent asunder. "Whatever happened to him? If he didn't return with you?"

"We parted paths." Elphaba spoke calmly. Glinda felt an eerie chill. "Not on ill terms, but… He needed, more than anything, to find who he was to become, and I was no longer a part of it. Our futures parted. He did not wish to return here, so he stayed—or went off, his own way, I believe was his intention."

"I do hope he's all right—Lurline bless him, whatever his faults."

Elphaba gripped Glinda's hand tightly. "And what of my faults?"

"Elphie,"—Glinda shook her head—"we _should_ go. Enough of… all this."

"You know I can't. _You_ can't. Running doesn't work for us, my sweet."

Glinda stared at her hand in Elphaba's, milky white against a sinful green. She was still not yet certain she hadn't dreamed herself into death.

"They tried to kill you," she whispered.

"That's just the trick," the witch said excitedly. "No one knows I'm alive."

"Elphaba,"—Glinda hesitated, as though holding her words at bay would delay their truth—"they'll be looking for me."


	12. Chapter 12

**AN: Plot development, what**

Glinda felt the rhythmic expansion of Elphaba's chest and stomach against her back. Green elbows hooked about her shoulders, and she could feel breath teasing wisps of curls nearest her ear. Her eyes maintained a soft focus, so that, even adjusted to the dark, her sight remained blurred.

The wilderness was quiet. Was it even actual wilderness? They were not so terribly far from local farmlands. Yet Glinda had never known places so lonesome. She felt clear. She felt that her burdens had been a nightmare, too garish and absurd to have been true. She saw Chistery, perched in a nearby tree, shake out his wings in his sleep.

Shifting in Elphaba's arms, Glinda turned to nestle her nose against the witch's collarbone, breathing the familiar scent of sandalwood. With very little movement, Elphaba placed a kiss on her forehead.

Glinda glanced up at her friend, but Elphaba's eyes did not open. The blonde did not know how awake the witch might be. Yet she did not wish to speak. Closing her eyes, she inhaled. And she slept.

OZ

7, the Month of the Merrow, 22 Post Ozma

If I ever needed trust in Glinda, now is the moment.

Oz help us.

OZ

Glinda the Good breezed through the palace corridors, haughtily nonchalant as though fashionably late for a socialite ball. In almost no time—although perhaps bit less promptly than the blonde might have expected—she found herself shadowed by a visibly nervous attendant. He walked swiftly, almost skipping to keep pace with her stride. She held her travelling cloak tight about her, to hide the condition of her apparel.

"Lady Glinda," the boy gasped. "Lady, we had dispatched the Gale Force—"

"Well call them back." Glinda infused her tone was a proper level of command. "I appreciate your concern, but the effort was unnecessary. Prepare a public appearance immediately, and spread the word however you must—I will apologize to my people personally."

The boy stood, caught between orders and compulsion. "My Lady, you disappeared so suddenly," he ventured. "We had believed that—"

"I was called away on urgent personal business. Forgive me, I hadn't the time to leave word."

"Yes, My Lady. So good to see you safe." He coughed quietly into the cuff of his sleeve. "Your disappearance, along with that of your…" The attendant hesitated.

Glinda lifted an eyebrow. "My familiar?" The boy blushed. "He departed well before I did—unless you recall seeing him the day prior. Likely off frolicking in the wild; he's such a playful sort. Perhaps he found some of his kin and they're having a ball of it. I had intended to ask you of news, in fact."

The attendant nodded and cleared his throat, at last too embarrassed to speak again. She felt somewhat sorry for him.

"Inform your peers of the things I've told you—whatever you consider relevant, gossip the rest."

The boy bowed and hastily retreated. Glinda sighed, turning her course toward her suite. While she had done everything possible, with limited means, to repair her haggard appearance before returning, she knew very well that much work needed be done before she could make any official appearance.

Alone, the blonde removed her traveling cloak, shaking her head as though capable of draining tension through her swaying curls. Catching sight of herself in a mirror, Glinda contemplated the reflection.

Her hair was somewhat flat, its sheen wan. She supposed she should have been grateful that no clinging dirt or twigs were visible, but she had been careful to primp it back into acceptable order—her younger self would have laughed at the use of _acceptable_—before reappearing, even only within the walls of the palace.

She had washed her face in a cold brook, but a dull layer of dirt still showed against her bare wrists. Her clothing—even simple as it might be—was a right mess, and she was grateful for her cloak to have successfully concealed it. Studying herself, Glinda reached a hand toward the mirror, fingertips touching its cold glass—but not herself. She could feel her blood pounding beneath the skin, and her breath tickled within her nasal cavity as it passed in rhythm.

Laughing, Glinda rang for a servant to draw a warm bath.

OZ

The hallway was bare, shining stone, the smooth floor rounding into the walls and ceiling in a gentle curve without interruption, as though cleanly cut by a current of water. It gave no impression of alternate ways in or out—it was direct. The glassy surfaces reflected Glinda's crystal light as she passed through.

Easing open the heavily armored door—having taken time and pains to unseal its intricate system of locks properly—Glinda stepped carefully into a vast chamber that threatened to swallow her meager light. As the door closed slowly behind, she felt a sudden impact mid-thigh and looked down to find Chistery hugging her tightly about the knees.

The blonde laughed lightly. "I see you made it."

Elphaba stepped cautiously from behind a massive mechanical head. "I was worried someone else might come along and discover us."

Glinda set the crystal down on a short pedestal and whispered a word to brighten, widening the circle of its glow. "After the Wizard abdicated, I ordered that the chamber be left undisturbed. If I was not permitted to clear your story, there was no point in exposing his."

The witch did not speak. She stared up at the Wizard's head, along with other mechanisms and tricks he had constructed to maintain his illusion of wonder.

"How was security?" Glinda asked conversationally. "Any trouble?"

Elphaba smirked. "I've sneaked past the Wizard's guards on more than one occasion."

"You will have to show me your passages in. It is rather disconcerting, to imagine that someone on the outside might be privy to similar knowledge."

"Not likely. The Wizard was a very paranoid man—otherwise the tunnels would not exist at all. What good are fortifications when they trap you?"

"_You_ discovered the way."

"Not easily," Elphaba said simply, and spoke in no more detail on the subject. "There are others—not just out, but through the palace. They will make our lives easier, I suppose."

"Yes, if I can come and go without being seen. Or perhaps you might even wander a bit, if you are brave."

The witch laughed.

Turning, Glinda approached her friend. Elphaba jumped at her touch.

"Elphie?"

"To think"—the witch forced a smile—"how I used to dread this place. Now it is my haven."

"Oh, my dearest Elphaba, no need to be so dramatic. As I recall, this was once all you'd ever wanted."

"All I wanted," the green woman breathed.

"Well, you'll have it." Glinda clicked her tongue. "I've carried the burden of governing for too long—it's yours, and good riddance."

Elphaba looked up, confused and surprised. "Mine? Are you mad?"

Glinda smiled. "I am a public figure. A face, if you will—and a beautiful one, to be admired. _You_ were the one with the will to change, to do—"

"Good," the witch finished.

"Leave the glamour to me, and I'll leave the burden to you."

"You are mad," Elphaba whispered. In the background, Chistery's chittering laughter sounded and echoed.

Glinda shook her hair, feeling the ringlets bounce about her shoulders, and raised her hands—as if to wave away all responsibility. "Nothing to do, Miss Thropp, but make yourself at home."


	13. Chapter 13

**AN: So I actually had this written Wednesday, and then Dragon*Con hit. (Loads of awesome. I hope someone reading this was there.) But now I have it edited, and here it is. And time to start work on the next chapter.^_^**

**It's a little shorter than I had planned, but it struck a spot that I wanted to end on. **

**Many thanks to my reviewers--means and helps a lot hearing your response. **

Glinda clutched the Grimmerie to her chest. Reaching up, she felt about until her fingers discovered a trigger—all that was needed to activate the trap. With a click, counterweights shifted, and a block of light appeared above her head. She ascended a short flight of steps to emerge through it.

Elphaba sat hunched over a long workbench, once used by the Wizard as a station for tinkering his inventions, cleared and converted into the witch's desk.

She had taken Glinda's words literally and had made her home within the Wizard's chamber. She created a snug if sparse space to sleep beneath the looming, lifeless gaze of the mechanical head—as though to mock her nightmares as the head had once mocked her. She worked and ate without ever leaving, even though she could come and go by the tunnels. Chistery brought her meals. He no longer stayed constantly by her side for the same reason his fellows had not returned to the palace with Glinda—they had spent too long locked within those very walls.

Glinda had offered to share her own quarters, but by the off-chanced risk a maid might enter unexpected, Elphaba declined the comfort for caution. She was accustomed to living on the run, and she was on the run still—a fugitive with brilliant connections. And she held the reins of Oz.

Glinda did not know whether the pale grey tint to her friend's features was an effect of the lighting or of the stress of purpose the green woman had so emphatically embraced. A dark lock of hair clung damply to her cheekbone, and Glinda reached to tuck it behind an ear.

Elphaba jumped at the contact but laughed quietly as she saw the blonde standing over her. "You startled me."

"No one will find you here."

"It's not that, just…" She inhaled, tapping her fingers on the surface of the workbench.

"Would you like help?"

Elphaba sighed, a physical exhalation of pressure that required much of her upper body. "I hardly know where to start."

"Difficult, isn't it?" Glinda's voice was simultaneously sympathetic and pointed.

The green witch winced and smiled. "How was I to know the Wizard would vanish the way he did? And so soon. After all my effort."

Glinda's fingers played along the binding of the Grimmerie. "Your passing changed many things in Oz—and in me." Setting the book on the table, she took a short step away. "I came to give it back to you."

Elphaba glanced at the book and—almost unnoticeably—recoiled. "I can't."

"It was only ever yours," Glinda said. "It is yours—take it."

Elphaba shook her head. "It's too dangerous—"

"In any hands but your own. Elphie, you can learn to control it. Who else could?"

The witch smiled slightly. "You haven't done so bad for a start."

"I haven't the power," Glinda said simply. It was true. The talent she'd longed for with pained yearning for so many years was not hers to claim. Yet she possessed other gifts. Masteries of her own had allowed her ascent.

"You are more powerful than you credit," Elphaba said gently.

"Oh, Elphie, don't patronized me. I have studied hard and learned, and I'm proud of my power in sorcery. But it is not yours. There's no use debating with me."

"I didn't mean—"

"There's no shame in your gifts, Elphie." Glinda gripped her friend's shoulder, and a green hand covered her own. "Don't let them make you believe."

Elphaba laughed bitterly. "What have I ever believed that did not prove false?"

Glinda smiled and wrapped her arms about Elphaba's shoulders. The witch leaned back into the embrace, comforted and calmed. "I like to think you believed in me."

Lurching stiffly, abruptly forward, Elphaba covered her mouth with her hand and wept. Stunned, Glinda nearly lost her hold on her friend's trembling form. Tightening her embrace, she felt tears and silence. She could not speak.

"I'm sorry," Elphaba rasped. "I'm sorry I left you."

"Elphie." Glinda clasped Elphaba's hands in her own, rocking her as she would a child. "Elphie, it's all right," she said, and surprised herself with her sincerity. She could forgive, even the darkest night she had known—a year, cold, alone, and lost—she could forgive. And she did.

"I won't," Elphaba forced, strained, "run again."

Glinda gently released her friend and moved so that their eyes could meet. She meant to speak but never did. Gazes locked, they remained. Glinda felt a stirring within her and embraced the emotion without analyzing its meaning or origin. She sensed contentment and purpose—vague, veiled, but significant. Elphaba touched her cheek, hesitantly. The tingle washed through her skin and into her veins. The blonde covered the hand with her own, to keep it.

OZ

24, the Month of the Merrow, 22 Post Ozma

I feel returned. Life is as difficult as I remember, but it is life, and it is mine.


	14. Chapter 14

**AN: Sorry for the wait, everyone--my life has been all kinds of crazy. It doesn't look to clear up soon either, but rest assured, I won't forget about you, and the story will be updated as soon as I can get chapters ready. Working slowly but steadily.**

**To my reviewers--you all rock. As always, feedback of any nature is well appreciated. **

**Btw I've had some notes on my pacing--I'll say it's kind of working at its own pace, which at times is slower and at times faster than I anticipated, but hopefully it works best for the story. Hopefully it also works for readers, but hey it really belongs to the characters right?^_^ The chapters, now that the plot is going, are still actually shorter than I had initially thought they'd be, but to be truthful this story feels more like writing microfiction in a series than it does like writing long fiction--high in feeling and sensory, and every word counts. (Now I'm going on a tangent about my process, and no one wants to hear that rambling!)**

**Hope you enjoy this chapter. I'll have the next up as soon as it's written and polished enough to be posted. I have a solid idea of where I'm going, but again noting that the story has its own way of pacing, will have to see if it manifests next update or later.^_^;**

When Glinda came upon her, Elphaba was frantic. "What's happened?" The blonde stepped forward, taking hold of her friend's hand.

"Nothing. I'm writing a decree. Would you… read it? I'm not sure it's properly phrased." The witch perspired with excitement.

Glinda partially stifled her laugh. "Me? Read over your work, like a school essay? Surely you remember my marks back at Shiz."

"You've more experience than I have. In these matters." Elphaba handed over the document with gentle care. Glinda accepted and looked up at her, questioningly. "I want to free the Animals and the others who were incarcerated only for holding to their individuality against the Wizard. Glinda, can you get me the transcripts for all the trials he held?"

The blonde sighed, touching her forehead. "I doubt most of your dissenters were given fair trial."

"Surely some can be—"

"Elphaba, what will you do? Throw open the floodgates? There will be no weeding the freedom fighters from the common criminals."

Fire flashed in the green woman's eyes. "Then we should abandon them?"

"We should do what we must!" Glinda regretted, somewhat, the chill in her words. But she had not ruled a year in vain. She had come to weather the political hurricane and had learned very well how to manage its winds. Compassion was one thing, sympathy quite separate. "Elphie, it's best that you care—if you did not, I would fear for our future. But you cannot singlehandedly right all wrongs. The system, the world, must work at its pace. And healing takes time."

Elphaba turned away, her eyes darkening. "Then what should I do?" she asked in a low voice. "In Your Grace's personal opinion."

Glinda brushed away the cut to her pride with a practiced patience. "Turn a wheel too sharply, the axel will break. A skilled driver guides with a gentle hand."

The witch laughed, a quiet puff of breath, accompanied by a smirk. "When did you become so philosophic?"

"I have become many things," Glinda said.

"And you're all right with this?" Elphaba's eyes pleaded, feared.

"Of course not. But we must work within the system, mustn't we?" Glinda looked down and back up at her friend. "Would you still like me to read over the document?"

Elphaba took the pages back, grasping Glinda's wrist with a soft pressure as she did so. "I think I'd like to rewrite it."

The blonde nodded and drew back. "I'll leave you be. And I'll bring the transcripts as soon as I can manage."

"Glinda," Elphaba called after her as she turned. But whatever she had wished to say, she changed her mind. Silently, the witch nodded, and Glinda departed without another word or glance.

OZ

12, the Month of the Gryphon, 22 Post Ozma

I find myself nostalgic. I think of Dr. Dillamond and wish for his advice. I think of Nessarose as a girl, even then selfish and brash, but delighting in life. We once employed an old Pony, Jemny, who taught her to ride in a modified saddle. He passed when she was only nine, and she cried for weeks—I would hold her at night.

What did we want, then? Perhaps only love.

OZ

"I say, Elphie, sometimes it's as though we're back at Shiz again. The two of us, before there was any Wizard involved or anyone knew us."

Elphaba shrugged. "Except that between work, public appearances, and too little sleep, we still hardly so much as see each other."

"Oh, but you were always studying, and I was always shopping or gallivanting with those inane lemmings."

"Your friends?"

The blonde snorted. "They were as much my friends as the bootlicking carrion feeders who've trailed my political career. I just hadn't the wit or experience to see it."

"I miss my inexperience."

"But see, it wasn't so different."

Elphaba shook her head and sighed. "_We_ were different."

Glinda contemplated her friend, tilting her neck for an angled view. The witch did not look up at her. "Nostalgia aside, I suppose I disagree with you—I don't miss my inexperience. Life was more difficult, in its own way, when I knew no better. Some of the choices I might have made… if I'd known then…"

"I never blamed you for your choices," Elphaba said softly.

"But I did."

Drumming her fingers, the witch rose suddenly. "We should go."

Glinda blinked. "Go?"

"Out. I feel I've been inside these walls long enough." She hesitated suddenly. "Is it night or day?"

"Night."

"Of course—or you wouldn't be down here." She presented a hand to Glinda, smiling. "Come."

The blonde laughed, and they ran through the tunnels as though children, racing for the joy of self-produced wind and breathless giggles. The night sky opened above them, clear and starry, an infinite ceiling with no walls.

"Let's fly, Elphie," Glinda pleaded, grasping Elphaba's sleeve and looking longingly to the endless space.

Elphaba laughed, and she offered Glinda the broom. Reaching slowly, breaching years of separation, Glinda took hold of the wood handle, and with a whoop of joy—startling her companion—she mounted. Elphaba in front of her, she wrapped her arms tightly about the green woman's ribs, and they were soaring. The exhilaration was as nothing she'd felt before.

The women heard a scream, and their heads turned to find Chistery, flapping rapidly toward them, belting through his fangs. Two friends laughed, and the monkey circled them. Together, they swept farther and farther from the city, over empty countryside and through abyss of sky.

Glinda's hammering heart pressed into Elphaba's back. She rested her cheek against the witch's shoulder and gazed down at Oz below, green with life even in the dark. They slowed to a glide, and Glinda savored the breeze, drank it. She was tempted to laugh but did not want to rupture the silent serenity.

Elphaba turned to look back at her friend. They hovered, suspended. Glinda's arms loosened about Elphaba's ribs. Under the hypnotic gaze of deep brown, she felt soft, gentle lips and did not think.

Without warning, a furry hand grabbed the shaft of the broom and swung, treating it as a stationary tree limb. Elphaba, who was used to Chistery's aerial shenanigans, tucked with the broom's sway into a spin. Momentum carried broom and witches through a full barrel roll. However Glinda's balance, thrown, did not right with Elphaba's, and with a scream she tumbled from the side.

The shift of weight carried Elphaba over again, and she too fell, though with both hands tightly clamped to the broom's handle—and she hung. She called out her friend's name, in a panic, but Glinda's cry of terror had been short-lived, for Chistery had caught her not twelve feet below.

The witch sighed. With a pull and a swing of her leg, she reseated herself on the broom and drifted down to retrieve the rattled blonde.

"Catch," Chistery said as he cradled her trembling form.

Glinda reached her arms about Elphaba again for the support, but she did not sit as surely as she had. "I'm starting to think I'd be better off taking my bubble from now on."

"And if anyone saw you," said Elphaba, "there'd be an admiring crowd wherever you tried to land."

"And if they see you?"

"Maybe it's time to return."

Glinda held tightly to Elphaba. She shivered, not from cold, and breathed in the silence.


	15. Chapter 15

**AN: Sorry, sorry, sorry for the wait. I've been trying to post this for a week and a half, but between classes and seven-hour-a-night rehearsals, have found no time to edit._**

**I'm sure someone will wonder at some point why I felt compelled to write a relatively Chistery-centric chapter. So I'll answer you now--I don't know. Scenes just kind of presented themselves. And perspective shifts are good for... well, perspective.**

**On the topic of scenes, I originally was going to have one more in this post. That being said, it's such a significant scene that I felt it threw too much of a weird balance into the chapter. I eventually decided it should get its very own chapter--so hopefully within the next few days I can get it edited into shape and post it. (It will be a short but very, very important chapter. Look forward to it.^_^) It is a very delicate scene and will need plenty of attention on my part.**

**Much gratitude to my reviewers. Your awesomeness knows no bounds.**

On their returned to the palace, Glinda was loath to leave Elphaba's side. She clung to the green woman's hand and let the rapidity of her pulse chase away the press of logic. Elphaba, however, proved the more logical. With a gentle kiss on the forehead, she sent the blonde away to sleep.

For Glinda, rest proved elusive. Her thoughts, suspended before, had gone into a spin when she found herself alone.

Time spun out with her heart. She could not still them.

With a gust of air, Chistery swooped and perched in her window, late into the morning hours. The blonde jerked upright, half expecting to see another figure stepping in from the sky.

Shaking out his fur, the monkey approached Glinda as she attempted to force relaxation into her muscles. As he climbed to the edge of her bed, she embraced him. He snuggled against her familiarly.

"Glinda," Chistery said, "fall."

The blonde sighed. "Glinda falling." She ran her fingers through the soft fur about his ears and scratched.

The monkey yawned, flashing his fangs. With a flex of his wings, Chistery curled at the end of her bed and slept.

OZ

Chistery had settled atop the Wizard's head and, as in a state of possession, taken to screaming ceaselessly. Elphaba, exhausted to impatience, attempted plugging her ears to little effect before she, in turn, took to screaming back.

"Chistery," she called, battling for volume over the monkey, "please, I can't do a thing with your din!"

She held a hand to him, and calming almost instantly he hopped from his perch and glided briefly to the floor. Elphaba sighed. "You've no reason to act like an infant," she said as he playfully swung her arm. "No matter what the Wizard propagated, you aren't mindless."

The monkey wrinkled his nose at her.

"Why don't you speak? You've proven you can." Silence. He blinked. "You could communicate what you feel if you only try."

Chistery shrugged and flashed his fangs.

The witch sighed again. No matter how she tried, often as she tried, he had yet to speak without Glinda's presence. Even then, he would offer a word or a clipped phrase, no more. He behaved as though he did not comprehend, but his eyes observed too keenly for Elphaba to accept his apparent unwillingness to progress. At times, she felt the monkey was taunting her efforts. His thoughts remained a mystery.

Elphaba rubbed her temple. "What would Dr. Dillamond have done with you?"

Chistery shook his head violently and beat his knuckles against the floor. As he turned to run off, Elphaba belatedly recalled that he and the other monkeys had known the old goat near the end, after his mind had been broken beyond repair.

Chistery was able to hear, barely, as she whispered, "What would he think of my failure?"

The monkey ran through mazes of tunnel before he found his way into open corridors. His keen senses helped him to avoid possible witnesses as he emerged. He might have gone directly to Glinda's chamber and out her window if he had wished, but he preferred his paths through the palace and the bustling life within, however alien to his own manner of living.

A novice servant boy appeared alone from around a corner. Chistery took a leap in the lad's direction, spreading his wings to exaggerate his size, and prompted a scream and a quick escape from the boy. Chittering his amusement, the monkey hurried along his way without compulsion toward further incident.

Glinda worked in her office unbothered. She breathed easier within its space since Elphaba's return. The walls did not seem so confining—and neither did the world.

Chistery padded across the floor to her side and rested his chin against her thigh. Glinda smiled, stroking his fur between his shoulders. "Where have you been? Causing trouble?" The monkey shook his head vehemently enough that she suspected a distinct mistruth. She laughed. "I suppose the servants will never get used to you. You remind them too much of her." Chistery's ears twitched, and he snorted.

Glinda sighed. "Odd that your brief spell at Kiomo Ko left a deeper impression than all your time captive to the Wizard. The world is a peculiar place, isn't it?"

The monkey climbed to the window and looked out.

"Do you want to go?" The blonde's voice betrayed no suggestion that he should leave or stay. His choice was left free to him.

Stretching his wings a moment to the wind, he hopped down and settled himself near her chair as she worked, peering over the desk as the window's light spilled across it.

OZ

Late hours passed, unheeded. The women should have slept, but they cast it no thought. Elphaba sat in the open window. The sheer drop opened the world beneath her, above, away. To her other side, Glinda and the cool interior of the palace.

"Oh, come away from there." The blonde approached only near enough to touch her friend's shoulder. Elphaba laughed.

"It's not so high."

"A tenth of the distance would kill you!"

"I've been higher." The witch grinned. "So have you."

Glinda shook her head, frustrated by worry. "That was different."

"Why?" The blonde sighed and retreated to her bed, sitting back amongst the lace. Elphaba sat forward, studying her. "Do you even come near this window?"

Glinda hesitated. "I don't feel afraid when I'm alone."

The green woman furrowed her brow.

"I suppose…" the blonde continued, at her friend's inquisitive expression, and looked to her feet. "It's not myself I fear for."

Elphaba swung her feet to the floor.

"We stood on the precipice before," Glinda whispered, "and we fell."

"Why aren't you afraid for yourself?"

The blonde laughed, tossing her hair. "What had I to lose?"

"What changed?"

"You."

Elphaba stood and approached her friend, seating herself also on the bed. "You weren't afraid when we flew?"

"Or after," Glinda answered. She smiled at the memory. "I think I almost fell from the window leaning out, trying to feel the air again."

"You, my sweet, are mad."

The women heard a flap, and Chistery landed in the window where Elphaba had been sitting moments earlier.

The witch smiled and sighed. "Does he always come and go so abruptly?"

"Usually. He likes my window because this side of the palace is practically barren. Hardly anyone watches, except perhaps an occasional patrol."

"You could have fallen from the window, and who would have known?" Elphaba's tone suggested a lightness that the blonde did not feel.

"Anyone who had seen you there would have known no better—not at this height." Glinda leaned forward to take Chistery's hands as he approached. "Welcome back."

He grinned showily.

"I've been attempting to work with him on his speech," Elphaba said dejectedly, "but he won't even try."

"Oh, I think he communicates just fine," Glinda said, never taking her eyes from the monkey.

"That's not the point."

"Isn't it?"

Elphaba looked at the blonde quizzically. "He could do better."

"We all could do better—couldn't we, Chistery?"

He opened his mouth, and Elphaba felt a surge of hope, but the monkey only smiled and rested his chin on Glinda's knee.

"He loves you," the witch said softly.

"Grief over your _death_—well I suppose it bonded us."

Chistery blinked, his ears twitching. He remained otherwise motionless.

"It's beyond that. His loyalty to you has grown far beyond any for me."

"Oh, I don't know. What is it, Chistery?" The blonde laughed. "Which witch do you prefer?"

His only answer was to run to the window and leap back out onto the wind.

OZ

When Glinda woke, she rang for a maid. The light from the window indicated that she'd slept later than she ought to have.

The girl arrived with breakfast on a silver tray. Positioning the cart carefully by the door, she curtsied gracefully. "Lady Glinda."

"Leave it there," Glinda said. "Draw a bath please, and then you may go."

The girl reverenced again and set to her task. However, once she had received leave, she lingered at the door. Glinda noticed the maid's hesitation and cast her an odd look.

"My Lady, I'm glad you are well."

The blonde turned her head. "Of course. Thank you, dear."

Still, the girl remained motionless. "I mean, My Lady, that you've been better. We're all relieved for you."

Glinda stared at the maid curiously. "Better?"

"Yes. We've all noticed the change in you these few months—and you appear to be very well. We had… worried."

"Ah." Glinda tapped a finger against her vanity. "I'm sorry to have concerned you."

"Oh no, My Lady—"

"Thank you."

The girl smiled and dropped into a curtsy as she exited. Glinda found herself alone before she'd blinked. Sighing, the blonde studied herself in the vanity mirror. Morning daylight shone as it glinted off her curls. She followed the light as it reflected from the glass, dancing in pale color across a far wall. Beauty, she thought, could be so easily accented or warped by light.

Glinda rose and wandered to the window, looking down at the base of the far drop. As her eyes travelled outward, she caught a glimpse of a guard patrolling the palace wall, minuscule with distance. He noticed her and waved. Lifting her hand in a return gesture, she withdrew from the window.


	16. Chapter 16

**AN: So I've spent a week editing this on and off, and I'm still not sure it's ready._ However, given my lack of confidence that I'll ever be fully satisfied with a scene this delicate to write, I hardly think it's fair to keep it back for longer. I really hate asking for reviews, but any feedback in this case would be most helpful and appreciated.**

**Short chapter I know. I did warn about that.^_^; In the end, I decided this needed its own chapter, length be damned. More to follow in due time--but even though I know where it's going, I only have a vague idea of how to handle it, so it'll need working with. Never fear for its delivery--I'm continuing to work on it as much as can be managed. **

**There's more I'd like to go on about, but no need to talk your ears off in an author's note.^_- Hope you all enjoy.**

Glinda carried her crystal before her, its glow soft. Her breath echoed in the silence, each footstep falling audibly against the chamber floor. The great head's eyes glinted at her with an emerald hue as her light reflected from them. And Elphaba slept beneath. She lay bundled in a dun woolen blanket and a mess of thin sheets, fully clothed. She never changed to sleep. Glinda wondered how many of the witch's old habits—etched deep by years of flight and fear and fury—would never fully die. A green hand lay open, fingers begging for embrace, and her face was serene.

Setting the light aside, Glinda knelt, smiling. Without quite meaning, she reached for her friend, brushing loose raven hair aside. Then, leaning farther, she kissed her.

Whether Elphaba believed herself dreaming or recognized reality at once in its glow, she transitioned from sleep to life without hitch or hesitation. She kissed back with a fervor. Glinda had heard passion describe as hunger, but she felt it as a thirst, and she drank. The oceans of the outside world could not have filled her, she thought. Elphaba did not speak, and Glinda did not wish for words.

As fingertips roamed, her soul relived their first night in the palace so many years before. She felt Elphaba's hand against her own and heard her words—_Come with me._ She remembered and wept. Had her life turned then…

Glinda felt a kiss against her tears, and she caught the lips on her own. Fabric fell away, her back arched, and she moaned.

Names and histories passed in whispered breaths. A moment from ecstasy, Glinda felt her love converge, as though her path had been narrowing all along to a single point. To believe that she had not possessed such feelings since very early in their friendship would have been to lie—that she had not recognized them, somewhat more truthful. Even Fiyero, even then, had belonged to a different sort of feeling. While Elphaba, constant even as their bond had forged, had been always a beacon, always certain, and Glinda had felt certain in her presence. Between herself and Fiyero, no such bond had existed—from start to end. They had dissolved even as their relationship began. Between Glinda and Elphaba, nothing had changed, except intensity.

_Rapture _she had never felt with Fiyero. She had wanted him, and she had cared for him. But had she felt love? What was it they'd shared? She could no longer have told. At the edge of the precipice, the cessation of words led to their ultimate impotence, and Life flowed into the gaps left in language's wake.

Tangled in a mess of sheet and bare skin, two witches believed again in Wonder. Their voices echoed from the cavernous walls. Elphaba whispered the word "love" as Glinda had begun fully to understand it. And the blonde shivered. She felt breath and sweat and soft kisses, and she forsook all of Oz'a adoration.

With her head against Elphaba's shoulder, Glinda inhaled the scent she had long associated with serenity. She felt fingers in her hair and laughed against green skin. The shine of the forgotten crystal cast gentle shadows over them; the witches witnessed its shimmer from warm skin and cold floor, light lost in the expanse above. Moments passed and ceased and beat with the rapidity of Glinda's heart. Passion had come to quiet, and still she drank.

In the calm content of sighed breath and echo, Glinda did not think—but her mind moved of its own accord.

The blonde sat up suddenly, and the sheet fell away, revealing her breasts and ribs. "Oh, Elphie," she breathed in revelation, staring up at the mechanical head, its dead eyes having lost their menace, "you're the heir."


	17. Chapter 17

**AN: I SUCK. So very, very sorry for letting this story go so long without an update. The truth is, I haven't had the time to write or edit--and my advice to all of you is never to become involved in rehearsing 4 shows at once. Wonderful, wonderful fun and highly valued experiences, but no sleep or time for schoolwork or time for anything or anyone.**

**On the upside, finals end very soon. So hopefully I'll have time to think again--and write and edit. At least until next semester and its impending productions, haha. [Insert slight terror and much exhaustion here.]**

**Also sorry for the briefness of this chapter--although I never intended it to be longer than this, as I knew specifically what I wanted to include in this installment, I still wish I had more to offer you, after that wait. I swear, it will come--as soon as it comes to me.^_^;;**

**Reviews are nice--I love my reviewers very, very dearly.**

**One last moment of shame at long intervals between posts--and now here's the chapter.**

30, the Month of the Gryphon, 22 Post Ozma

I wish I still thought Glinda stupid—because I do not think her a liar.

OZ

"Elphie." Glinda followed the witch's eccentric pacing. "Elphie, talk to me."

Elphaba did not look at her friend. In her anxiety, she had not bothered to dress. She walked about with swift strides, wrapped tightly in the coarse material of the blanket the women had shared moments before. Glinda had felt fleetingly grateful to have been left, between the two, the finer fabric of the sheet, given her delicate skin—neither did she take time to dress properly—but she had since begun to feel the cold.

"There's something about this place," Elphaba muttered. "It's a curse."

"Elphaba, don't be silly. You're not cursed."

"Aren't I?" Her chest rose and fell with panicked gasps. "Everything I touch shatters to pieces. Look at how I left Oz—and you." She sobbed and smiled. "And you fixed it. And look at me now."

Glinda rung her hands. "I shouldn't have told you. It was wrong."

The witch blinked through tears, studying the overhead darkness of the cavernous chamber—her prison. "I bore Oz's hatred only for the sake of truth. After everything, truth will have myself and my soul."

"Elphie…"

"Lurline build and break us all," the green woman whispered and bit her tongue and tasted blood. "Oz, I knew truth's burn since youth—never its condemnation."

As Elphaba would not cease her pacing, Glinda had to grab hold of her quickly, clinging to still her. She rested a cheek against a naked green shoulder and sighed. "You're babbling. Don't be so silly. Please…"

Slowly, Elphaba turned. The sheet draped about Glinda's shoulders had fallen open, the gap revealing the soft curve of her breasts, a streak of pale skin all the way to her navel. With a sob, Elphaba dropped to her knees and embraced the blonde, burying her face between sheet and skin.

"If it could only be the two of us…"

"Oh, Elphie," Glinda sighed, wished, "you know as well as I that would never work."

"Why?" The witch shuddered. "I'm happy, my sweet, with you."

Glinda shivered as fingers tingled against her skin. "Because you can't run away."

Elphaba rose, turning away. Glinda pursued, her heart tearing.

"You know it, Elphaba. You came back here. Why? It wasn't only for me. You need Oz, you need to live with cause." She hesitated. "Happiness isn't enough."

"Why not?" the witch growled. "Why can't I be _content_? I have all the elements, and yet I can't—" She broke off.

Glinda touched Elphaba's arm and felt a surge of relief that her friend did not pull away. "Elphie… it's not a spell. You can't cast Life."

The witch snorted. "I'd cast it wrong. It would be a cheap imitation."

"Don't say such things. You're the best of all worlds."

Elphaba drew back with enough force nearly to unbalance Glinda. "I'm not of his world!"

The blonde growled and stamped a foot. "Will you _stop_!" Her outburst shocked them both, but still she did not feel compelled to lower her tone. "Ozsake, why do you always have to be so dramatic? It hurts—I know. I felt every pain they put us through. I felt it too, Elphie! _You_ were the one who taught me to rise to the world's challenges. I don't believe for a second that they broke you so!"

The witch hesitated. In the vast dark of their lonely haven, she felt intimidated by Glinda. She felt shame and confusion—and love. Glinda's confidence in her—the blonde's trust, her certainty—she did not feel in herself. In truth, she had been shaken so deeply by her last days in Oz, after Dorothy's arrival, that she had not yet learned to recover.

Yet Glinda had weathered as much and emerged with spirit and zeal. Elphaba took courage from the anger and faith in the blonde's eyes, and she grasped a pale hand in her own.

"What do we do?"

OZ

Rumors spread throughout Oz of a lost heir to the Royal seat. Whispers of the child Ozma flared, and hidden followers of the old Line grew hopeful and bold. The child lived—she must have, all along, Lurline's will. Others spoke of the Wizard—could he have left a bloodline, while he hardly yet seemed human to the public who dared imagine it? Talk spread of his immanent return—he could surely not stay away from his people and certainly could not be dead. The tales caught and conflagrated.

The people were not unsettled—they had prospered under Glinda's rule and few bore any sense of resentment to their unlikely sorceress queen. Yet still—what heir and what claim could have hidden undetected, waiting and biding and preparing to emerge?

News and stories reached Glinda's ears. Through servants, through gossip, through scraps of paper and bursts of phrases Chistery brought. From the countryside, within the city—none could resist such a wonder and mystery.

Cloaked in their secrets, the women waited, with hope, with apprehension—as energy and expectation rose in Oz, not yet brewed to boil.


	18. Chapter 18

**AN: Holy shit, shame and self-flagellation (not at all literal, mind you). But my updates have been terribly slow, and I am SOOO sorry. Hit a nasty snag on this chapter... and then put off editing it._ I am at your mercy! Not okay at all.**

**So... here's the chapter.^_^; As usual, brief. I apologize for that too. Review and berate me if you like--but either way review. Heh**

**I should stop talking--you've all been waiting long enough.**

The lamp burst into fiery life, delicate fingers lingering near to its burn. While her crystal served as a most efficient form of artificial light, Glinda relished for the moment in the heat and dancing glow of bare flame. Its scent soothed her.

The small light flickered as though in a wind and puffed out. Glinda waved at its trailing smoke and laughed. "Enough of your tricks."

"Fire is dangerous. You could harm yourself." Elphaba approached from behind the blonde, near enough that Glinda could feel her warmth at her back, but the green woman did not touch her. "You aren't troubled, my sweet?"

Glinda shrugged, noting the concern in Elphaba's voice. "I keep thinking."

"Thinking?" Elphaba asked, foregoing a wisecrack for a smirk. The blonde did not notice, as she had yet to look up from the lamp.

"Perhaps it isn't enough."

"What more is to be done?"

Glinda rose, her expression set to business. That look of determined competence still stirred Elphaba—when had Galinda Upland grown so? Even in wondering, her keen awareness of its answer turned her stomach and her soul.

"I need names. Animals you've helped, people who might not hate you. Whatever happened to that Lion?" She blinked toward a dark corner, seeming suddenly to speak to herself rather than to Elphaba. "You rescued him, you and Fiyero. And as Dorothy's companion, his voice would hold sway."

"Ah yes, but recall he was among the mob at Kiami Ko to kill me."

"So he was, but I am uncertain. He was more frightened than angry, after all."

"Perhaps." Elphaba shifted, uncertain.

Glinda studied her friend, upon her hesitance. "You don't believe any of this will make a difference."

The witch looked away. "I am only trying to be realistic."

Glinda laughed and tossed her curls. "But, Elphie dear, we are idealists. Or don't you remember?"

"I do." The reservation in Elphaba's tone worried Glinda.

The blonde raised an eyebrow. "Yes, idealists," she continued with another toss of her hair. "Realists see the world as is it is, simple as stone. We make the world into what ought to be."

Elphaba did not answer. Glinda watched as the green woman twitched under her gaze, giving herself away.

"You no longer agree?"

"It all sounds very naïve," Elphaba said a bit too quickly.

The blonde laughed. "Are you telling me you, Elphaba, flew off the Wizard's roof as an acceptance of reality?"

"And you stayed behind." The witch's voice rose in pitch. Her breath had grown rapid, and Glinda recognized the signs. "You worked within the system."

"Not because I saw it as it was. Because I saw as I wanted to see."

"And what did you see the night of Dorothy? The night I left?" Elphaba's eyes caught her own, and Glinda's heart fluttered. The core of the matter, which neither of them cared to dredge, stared them in the face as steadily as Elphaba stared at her. And yet Glinda felt a further elusiveness—she had not yet struck the heart. Buried so very deep, under jade and bedrock, one must bleed or withdraw defeated with the grave un-dug.

"I saw little through my own tears." Glinda spoke softly. The quiet was oppressive. "It certainly was not the world I wanted to see—as it ought."

"That's because it was not so. It was worse than you had imagined." Elphaba exhaled, pressing the air out from her core. "You did not see the signs that I had lived, and purposely. Why? Because I betrayed you and left you. Do you think my doing so was a simple matter? Logical or mere survival? I survived for years without ever needing commit such a sin."

"They were coming to kill you." Glinda detected a whimper in her own voice, a fear. Yet she could not turn back. She wanted to hide, as she'd done for years of her early life. But hiding again would mean she'd lose the little she had gained through fierce hardship—and again she'd be alone.

"When weren't they trying to kill me? They would have had me that first night on the roof, and I escaped."

"And you protected me."

Elphaba smiled. "Yes, and you were safe for a while. You took care of yourself well."

Glinda ground her back teeth, feeling the burn of shame. "Elphaba, please don't—"

"I wanted you to. I wanted you to be happy, sweet."

"Well I made a poor job of that."

"You've made an excellent job of everything else."

The blonde shook her head. "You can hardly offer me credit for that. If it weren't for you—"

"If it weren't for me you would not have had to. I left you." Elphaba drew closer to Glinda, as though to force confrontation. "When I left you in the Emerald City it was another matter—you chose to stay, and I left to defend you among others. When I left you at Kiamo Ko, it was pure selfishness. I abandoned you then." Glinda trembled. "Do you think I could have done such a thing had I been myself? Glinda, you credit my strength. You're wrong."

The blonde gasped and rushed to embrace her friend. "Don't…"

"I never told you why," Elphaba whispered. "I apologized for the worst sin I have committed, but you never understood."

"Stop. I forgave you. Enough." Glinda kept her face buried by Elphaba's neck, unable to look up.

Elphaba pushed her away. "Because they broke me. After everything… I failed, and I left you willingly."

"No." Glinda grasped at her friend. "I've seen you. You haven't changed."

"How can I be as I was?" The witch shook her head despairingly, smiled despite it, and sighed. "I know that I can bow beneath them. I fought to overcome them. And they broke me. I failed in all I set forth to do."

Understanding, even as she had tried not to, Glinda comprehended all that had held Elphaba back since her return. The blonde witch took the burden and felt lighter for it. "Not anymore." She took a green hand in her own. "Not us. Not together."

Before Elphaba could speak, Glinda kissed her. She acted with certainty, with serenity, and willed her strength—learned from her dearest friend—back into its source.

Smiling against green lips, Glinda tasted hope. She tasted happiness, or something like it. "Together we're…"

She felt a hand travel down her neck, static causing the soft hairs to rise.

The emotions that pulsed with Glinda's blood she found difficult to define with words she knew. She did not want to call it _love_. Such a fickle term, one she had thrown about with Fiyero and believed surely enough. In terms of _Elphaba_, she did not differentiate romantic love from any other sort.

"Elphie…" The questioned that needn't be asked tingled her tongue. Elphaba answered.

Under her caress, Glinda felt all the ecstasy in her converge, emotional and physical. She wept and she laughed, and she heard Elphaba's laugh too, and she kissed her.

Unnoticed, an unsuspecting monkey flapped into the window and very nearly tumbled over backward out of it, retaking to flight.


	19. Chapter 19

**AN: Holy crap, this is 19 chapters? I mean, holy crap, a new fucking chapter!**

**That said, if you're still reading this, I bow to your loyalty. Because I have been so shitty about keeping up with it (obviously, you know that). If it's any comfort to you, my writing program is CRAZY and only masochists should apply to it (even though I love it, so idk what that says about me), and I never have time to write anything but what they tell me, and even if I do have extra time I'm completely braindead typically. Phew, that was a long run-on.**

**But one day, when I got a front row lottery seat to Wicked (HOLY SHIT), I remembered how much I loved this story, and I spent little snippets of stolen time between braindeadness to put thought into it again. Then someone tackled me, so I wrote the new chapter. And tonight I got around to editing it, woohoo.**

**It's - shockingly - short, rather like other chapters. But I hope it gives you loyal and loving and fuckingawesome readers a fix in any case.^_^ So with love... here.**

**And though I, in my months-drawn-out negligence, do not deserve the honor of your reviews, I humbly beg them (yeah, so not above begging) of you - they really, honestly do encourage me and remind me and inspire me to keep working. However little time I get to actually do it._ *Faceplants* New chapter anyone?**

"Elphie, have you heard—"

The room was empty. Glinda looked about, because rarely did Elphaba disappear from her seclusion during daylight—never, in fact, unless Glinda already knew of her reason and whereabouts. Confused, the blonde returned to her own chambers, which were also empty.

Putting her head out the window, the ruler of Oz called: "Chistery! Chistery… Ah."

The monkey's shadow swept above, and she stepped aside to allow him in.

"Chistery, have you seen Elphaba?"

Hopping back to the window, he motioned with one arm and exited to—wings be damned—climb the side of the palace, hand over hand. Glinda watched him for a moment before she ducked back inside, and minutes later she emerged on the roof—where she found Elphaba, with Chistery beside her, sitting with their backs to the sun.

"Elphie, what are you doing out here?" The blonde sighed, taking a place alongside her friend. "If you were seen…"

"I thought you wanted me to be seen." Elphaba stroked Chistery behind the ears. "Or did I misunderstand the plan?"

"Elphaba, don't be sharp." Glinda sighed again. "Seen under _controlled_ circumstance—"

"Where they can lynch me in a controlled manner." The green woman smirked through her pearly teeth.

Her companion did not laugh. "Don't even joke about that sort of thing, Elphaba."

"It's only the roof; I have no intention of getting caught," she responded in seriousness.

"Still, it's—" Elphaba put a finger to pink lips, hushing the blonde.

"My life is a danger, my sweet. To yours more than mine. I would not risk you so lightly."

Glinda felt herself blush, at the softness in Elphaba's voice more than her words. The silence began to grow ever more intimate, until Chistery made a sound in his throat. Remembering his presence out of politeness, the witch smirked again and resumed stroking behind his ears. He huffed and fidgeted nonetheless, his wings rustling as he obviously contemplated flying away and leaving the two women to themselves.

"You were looking for me?" Elphaba said, without looking at Glinda.

As though coming from a trance, the blonde recalled why she'd originally sought out her friend. "Yes, have you heard? There have been recent sightings of Dorothy's Scarecrow in the West Vinkus—or so the rumors say."

Elphaba started. "Fiyero! Could it be?"

Glinda pressed a hand to her forehead. "I don't know, Elphaba. The desert has only ever been crossed by air. But someone—without need of water or any other sustenance…"

The witch nodded. "He could have done it."

"Why return, I wonder?" Glinda's eyes were contemplative as she stared at the city below, the expanse of land beyond it.

Elphaba shrugged. "In search of home?"

"In search of you?"

A firm expression settled on the witch's face. She shook her head. "I doubt it."

"It's happened before"—a beat—"you know."

The green woman showed no emotion at the memory other than a hard gaze at the roof tile and an unreadable blink. "I had nothing left to give him when we parted."

Before any remark could follow, a winged figure crossed the sun and began to grow. Both women rose in anticipation of it, although Glinda could not mask her surprise. The monkey lit on the roof a half dozen meters from them, shaking out its windblown fur. Chistery vocalized an unintelligible greeting. The herald monkey rushed first to his companion, before Chistery stepped aside in indication that it should address itself only to Glinda and Elphaba. Unsure which to allow the greater honor, the monkey held out a long, thin object toward the gap between them.

Glinda gasped as she reached down to take it. Shaking out its fur once more, the monkey scurried away. At a loud call from Chistery, however, it did not take back to flight.

Breathlessly, the blonde reached her arm to Elphaba, presenting a pale, wispy straw, ends fluttering in the rooftop breeze.

Elphaba did not reach to take it. "It is him," she said quietly.

Drawing herself up, Glinda started toward the stairs that would lead her down again into the palace. "Chistery, I will need a message delivered," she spoke over her shoulder. "As quickly as possible. We must extend an invitation to the palace immediately."

Elphaba was about to follow her friend in when Chistery tugged at her sleeve. She looked at him curiously. The blonde had disappeared when a second messenger appeared over the city's horizon. Squinting into the sun, the witch awaited its arrival with even keener anticipation—and no little anxiety. When it arrived, it ran even before its feet touched the ground, and almost headlong into her skirts before stopping—pressing an object into her hands. In a delayed response, she finally thought to grip it.

Looking down, Elphaba found a book bound in paper, its pages tattered and yellowing. As she examined it more closely, her heart began to race and her mind to fog.


End file.
